Really Just One Of Those Days...
by La Fata Morgana
Summary: Summers is in for it when Jean wakes up and makes a discovery...


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**Really Just One Of Those Days...**

as written in roleplay by   
Kabanas and Morgana   
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**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize belongs to Marvel. Anything you don't is ours. Which is guess is just the plot. Once again, the incredibly talented Krista took the reins for the Briefed Wonder, while I commandeered Red.   
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**Jean** The early morning shift from pre-dawn darkness to brilliant sunrise, and an indepth, drowsy study of her husband's sleeping figure revealed something to Jean Grey. Something that was vastly disturbing to the telepath, and infact caused slender brows to furrow in confusion. Studying Scott's face a moment, as if she could discern the nature of the quandry by staring at him, her mind rolled over the problem. 

**Jean** Gleaning no answer there, she sat up in bed and leaned closer to his well-muscled arm, inspecting the source of her confusion. It occurred to her to search his mind for the the answer she sought, but not only was that a violation of his privacy, she didn't fancy working around that dream he was immersed in. Shaking her head, she decided there was only one way to figure this out... 

**Jean** tossed her hair over her pale shoulder and returned towards the head of the bed, propped up on her elbows as she gave her husband a little telepathic nudge, her expression something bordering between perturbed and curious. "Honey..." 

**Scott** "Mmmmmnnn..." It was the most intelligent thing a husband -could- say in the morning. Scott, for the life of him, though, had a very hard yesterday and an even longer yesternight. There was close to nothing that would wake him up now. Except perhaps for that funny tickle he felt in his mind. Jean. Oh, baby, why are you doing this to me now? 

**Scott** sleepily lolled his head in her direction, opening a disguised eye beneath his sleeping mask before sliding closer to her to get some snuggling in. Maybe that'll dissuade her... 

**Jean** On any other morning, that might have worked, but Jean was on a mission now. Deftly, the redhead caught the arm about to slide around her and inspected it closely as she had moments earlier. "Scott... what the hell." Her comment, however murmured, required an answer. Specifically, an answer -now-. Tugging on the arm, which would hopefully proke full awakeness in her beloved, she prodded at the spot in question. 

**Scott** "Aaaaarggghhh..." Muttered nice and slow and defiantly. "Honey..." Scott was forced to slide up now with his back against the headpost. The look on Jean's face was disturbing. It actually managed to put a fair amount of terror in Scott, once he locked eyes with the woman. And yet, he remained oblivious to the hand gripped around his forearm. 

**Scott** Her hand was warm against his skin. Lucky that, because his bare upper torso was beginning to freeze in the morning cold. Guess who had opened the window... Moving things from a distance wasn't exactly the man's forte. "What...?" 

**Jean** locks eyes with her husband for long enough to tell that he was paying attention now. Lifting his arm by the wrist, she pointed at the set of scratches that broke the smooth tan there, and the twin punctures. Raising a slim brow, she comments, "Now, I know I'm not a succubus. Been hanging out with Blade lately?" 

**Scott** Pardon Scott while he tugs his arm back away from her. Squinting against the sunlight, he held his forearm up for close inspection, rubbing away with his other hand the fine scabs that had begun to form there. "Damnit..." It'd meant having to explain the Danger Room simulation he was training in yesterday. The one featuring vampires. And Betsy. 

**Scott** Dropping his arms, Scott squarely returned his gaze to his wife and bit away his sleepiness. "Would you believe vampires?" Fearless' brows lifted just a smudge, out of meekness. She wouldn't want to hear about the Psylocke part anyway. 

**Jean** regards her husband with an inscrutible expression. "Vampires. You programmed vampires into the Danger Room. And then you fought them. Alone." Deadpan, still. If it weren't six AM she'd probably be amused. "Geek," Jean quips, leaving him alone about it for the moment and retreating back to her pillow where she took to fluffing it with the intent of returning to sleep. 

**Jean** sits back up. "And you actually took a hit?" 

**Scott** pulled his legs up and rested his arms atop his knees, unable to go back to sleep now. He leaned his head to a rest above that, while a charming grin spread fast across his youthful face. Aha. Wait a minute... "I never take a hit." Summers, no. "I was on a rescue mission..." Please, don't. "It was just self-defense." Scott... "Betsy had my back." ...Rest in peace. 

**Jean** Shoulda' listened to your better judgement, Summers. At any other time, the way Jean literally paused what she was doing, posed perfectly still, would have been comical. Now it was a deadly omen of the calm before the storm. As if God had passed his hand over their room and stolen the breath from the firstborn of Xavier's student's. There was just about to be a great cry in the land when she decided on sarcasm. ? "I bet she did." 

**Scott** Well, so much for Scott's smile. "Baby..." Just like that, Mr. Summers was immediately flat on his stomach and back inside the covers, trying to make amends with a warm hug. What'd he do? If she could reach into memory banks, she'd know she was being ridiculous. Scott would never... 

**Scott** "I haven't trained with Psylocke in over two months. I haven't even seen the woman pull out that katana inside the mansion since then. She's been slacking." Hmm, no response. Smooch? No, nothing there either... "Honey..." 

**Jean** No one ever said her jealousy was rational. It was just there. A frown slipped unbidden across her lips, and she didn't quite respond to his attentions. Nope. Nothing there. She couldn't help being a jealous cow sometimes. Neither could he, though, and she let that slide. Sigh. Slumping down onto the pillow, she cast something akin to a pout up at her husband. "So? She's quite capable of training by herself." 

**Scott** Alright, Summers. Time to do slave duty... "She is," he pouted right back, unable to help himself. "In fact, I think she ended up rescuing me instead of the other way around." Watching Jean pull her eyes away from him just about made Scott's stomach tumble. He had to do something. 

**Scott** "Sweetheart, don't do this to me..." Jean, don't be a cow. Your husband is practically begging... "Sweetie..." And the kisses rained upon Jean as Scott went for the jugular, face buried into her neck, apologetic smooches aplenty. 

**Jean** practically squirmed restlessly in his embrace, frowning distaste at the very thought of Braddock. But...those... kisses were persuasive. Scott was responsible. He'd never let anything happen with Psylocke. Right, Jean? Eh. RIGHT, Jean? Right. Finally her hands slid over his back and down to toy with his own hand, petulant and gazing at the ceiling, head tilted sideways. "Hmm.... I just... don't like the way she looks at you." 

**Scott** "No, you wouldn't. You're married." A careful tease, of course. Scott inched even closer to his wife so they complimented each other's curves in a perfect fit. He rested a leg slightly over her knee and let his arm fall across her stomach, keeping her safe to him by her waist. As for her shoulder, well...it was as good of a pillow for his head as any. 

**Scott** "Listen, Jean." Scott's voice returned to a more commanding and reassuring tone. "Training is always a handful. But you can blame these cuts on Cerebro's vampire hordes and not on Betsy. I can't even imagine how painful that would be." 

**Jean** Oh... wait.. yeah, there it is. The corners of her lips turning slightly upwards. Enough to show she wasn't too pissed off, but still wasn't impressed with the whole situation.. "I don't know.. if anyone around here is a succubus, it's her." A sigh escaped Phoenix, and she relaxed somewhat in his arms, resting her head against his. Her hand rose to massage the bridge of her nose to attempt to fend off the headache forming there. 

**Scott** laughs lightly. And if anyone had to curb an over-active tongue... "Well, I'm not going to allow you to worry about me, so you might as well give up now..." Scott let the moment sink in between them before his eyes delicately traced her face. There was a beat, and he leaned over her to kiss her long and sweetly. Resting in peace, Summers? You're not fooling anyone. 

**Scott** And then... "Mmmn..." There goes that sound again. It meant that Scott's body was reminding him how tired he was and that it was high time he went back to sleep. If Jean allowed that, that is. Sliding his head down to her shoulder, he let his dark lashes slip to a close. The two of them actually managed peace and silence until... 

**Scott** "Honey, can you shut that window? It's getting windy in here." 

**Jean** 's eyes snapped open and narrowed. Really now. Given his proximity, he no doubt felt her jaw tighten, and certainly heard the expelled breath of consternation. She'd almost succeeded in returning to sleep. Counting off inside her mind, her barely clad figure reached over the side of the bed for her silk robe and she extricated herself from his grip, tugging it on wordlessly. 

**Jean** A shift in the matress indicated she had left the bed, and a moment later, the window thumped shut. And after that, the bedroom door. No use in furthering the headache threatening to escalate in her temples by using her powers. It seems Jean's mood had turned sour again. This was going to be quite the day. Down in the kitchen over a cup of coffee, she flipped open the paper to her horoscope - "Go back to bed." ~_^   


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Think that's ironic? My horoscope this morning told me to look out for a law suit.   
I wonder if Marvel is going to sue my ass for posting this. O.o 

~Morgana 


End file.
